Operation Make The Grumpy Guard Smile
by incredibly-edible
Summary: Feliciano can't tell the guard apart from the cold, still marble statues that surround him. What is a poor art historian supposed to do with all this time and no relief from boredom? He comes up with a little game...
1. Chapter 1

**A short but sweet intro to something I hope to continue, depending on my laziness. Beta'd by the lovely Issy. A museum AU.**

The guard was there again, the way he's there every Thursday, Friday and Sunday. The art historian first noticed him a few months ago because he looked as still and cold as the lifeless marble statues surrounding him. Except, he was possibly even colder. Seriously, could this guy even blink?

The Italian wondered about him often. There was little else to fill the long gaps between tours at the National Museum of Art. And it was fun watching the guard. Was his skin as cold as his expression? This had Feliciano thinking about running his hands over the guard's skin…well, the long hours weren't going to just pass without at least _one_ good fantasy.

When he thinks about it, there are a lot of other guards he could focus on. There's no reason this one should stick out so much. Actually, it's probably the sheer degree of grumpy he manages to achieve that draws Feliciano's attention. No human being should be able to stay that still. Especially not for that many hours. Or with that serious an expression.

Three months in, the idea hits him.

It's one of those long Thursdays where Friday feels so close but he knows he has to endure several hours until it's finally here. The 11 o'clock tour has come and gone and he's left restless and useless and once again contemplates the pointlessness of his position as 'wandering art historian'.

Supposedly he's meant to educate wandering tourists about the significance of the artworks they're viewing. But realistically, most tourists startle and subtly run away when they see a smiling museum worker approaching them to educate them. They're only here because it was in the tour guide. They don't actually want to _learn_ anything.

So he roams idly. Turning a corner, he finds himself in his favourite room. Not his favourite because it's the statue room and he does enjoy a room full of naked men, nor because of its gorgeous marble floor and intricate ceiling design. It's his favourite because it's the room that _the guard_ occupies.

The idea springs up on him like it was simply waiting for an excuse to jump at him. Almost like an excitable house trained mammal. (Assuming you like your mammals house trained, but you know, to each his own.)

It goes something like this:

Observe an attractive but incredibly cold and grumpy looking guard. No one that pretty should ruin such a face with those frown lines! The only option is to make an attempt to cheer them up, for their own good, of course. The Goal? To make the grumpy guard smile. And to make this little game more interesting, Feli gives himself a deadline of two weeks.

Which means he ought to get started immediately.

**There will be more! Hope you enjoyed this.**

**((Reviews are love))**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another Chapter! I should be able to post several pretty rapidly, can't promise anything crazy long for now though. There is much in store...mwahaha. Beta's by the lovely Issy, enjoy!**

He starts by trying to get the guard's attention.

To begin, he stands at the entrance to the statue room (which he ought to call the name printed on the museum floor map: The Main Chamber) and stealthily works his way towards his target. He moves with the precision of a man who has never needed to be stealthy in his life and the confidence of a man who is happy to look ridiculous.

He hides behind a copy of _The Thinker_ by Rodin, and quietly moves on so that he is hidden by _Sampson slaying a Philistine_ by the great Giambologna. (He loves both works with fervour - mainly because of the exquisite muscular form of the nude males…)

The art historian pretends that the guard hasn't noticed him. He can't have done because Feliciano knows he's been extremely sneaky. Besides, it's more fun this way.

Deciding he ought to reveal himself, he moves slowly into the guard's line of sight. _There!_ Those eyes definitely flick to him, albeit briefly.

He coughs once (with utmost subtlety, of course). _Again!_ A brief lapse from that endless focus; eyes glancing his way a second time.

Feeling braver, he moves so he's standing two metres next to the guard. He stands rigid while looking anywhere but at him; the picture of nonchalance. His eyes slide to the right so he can see him out of the corner of his eye. Is he imagining it, or does the blond look twitchier and grumpier than usual? He must be annoying him! A quiet voice within his mind laughs with glee.

Once more averting his eyes, he takes two steps sideways so he is literally about 5 centimetres away from his target.

"Look, do you want something?" The guard says. He's German! Curiouser and curiouser…

"Oh, no no, don't mind me I'm just…admiring the artwork." He replies, shifting his weight back and forth and swinging his arms a little. He is certain he must look exactly like a casual observer.

The tension really radiates off this guy. Feli can feel his mood darkening across the small space between them. In his opinion, there's nothing wrong with letting the silence just stretching on because well, they're just a museum guard and art observer standing and admiring art work. Perfectly normal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a muscle in the German's face twitch.

For several more minutes he goes through many different strategies including the classics: shoelace tying, scratching, running his hands through his hair, fiddling with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt and even twisting his phone in his pocket and tapping his feet.

He can feel the moment the guard changes his rigid stance.

"What is your problem?!" the guard hisses. It's the kind of hiss that is clearly meant to be an intimidating yell, and probably would be if this wasn't a museum.

"No problem at all, Mr Guard. I'm just looking at this beautiful view. Lots of lovely marble in here, don't you think? Such skill in the curve of those muscles and draped marble sheets." Feli sighs. As a side note he adds, "Leaves very little to the imagination too." He ends with a wink.

'Mr Guard' flushes a gorgeous shade of deep red (Feli wonders if that blush extends down his chest too…) He stammers a little for a moment, clearly in shock.

"W-well…if you wouldn't mind moving away a little. You're invading my personal space." He hisses. The blush doesn't fade - to Feli's delight. This is so much fun.

"Oh, I'm sorry! People tell me I can be 'over friendly', but I just like being close to people you know? I think it's nice! Personally I think everyone should be more friendly, then we would all be happier." He says while grinning. The blond looks so lost.

"That's nice…yes. Now if you don't mind, I am on my shift and I don't want any distractions."

"Oh, come oooon, distractions from what? Staring grumpily into the distance?"

"What? I do not…stare grumpily."

"You do. You do little else actually, in all the times I've seen you I don't think you've so much as blinked."

"That's not true! Of course I blink." The guard says, looking flustered and bewildered. He has clearly not met many Italians before. For a second, Feli considers taking him to Italy. Just to see him flounder.

"Look! You're evading the accusation! Everyone knows you're the grumpy guard. And besides it's not like you have any distractions I mean, nothing happens here. All you have to do is sit for hours."

The blond is clearly at a loss for words. Feli assumes he's not very good with them as a general rule. He decides that he has flustered up this german a good deal for today.

"It has been very nice talking to you, Grumpy german guard. My name is Feliciano! And I'll leave you alone now, ciao!" With a sort-of nod he twirls away elegantly and leaves the bewildered guard staring after him as he leaves.

**Thank you for reading! More to come, much more. Reviews are love :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Beta'd by the lovely Issy. Another Chapter, this is a lot of fun. I've already got the next two chapters, just awaiting beta-ing so stay tuned for more, very soon.**

And suddenly, Friday.

Feli almost skips to work that day. (He is guilty of actually skipping to work once…or twice. But he was perfectly deserving of those lovely, stare-inducing skips). This Friday is not just a Friday, which is of itself a beautiful thing to behold, but this is another day of guard-flustering.

The 11 o'clock tour passes far too slowly for his liking. The tourists seem to be the actually-interested-in-art-kind today, which means they take forever observing each individual piece in every single room. They're probably discussing representations and deeper meanings too, which Feli would enjoy most days if they were in a language he understood. What is it this time - Swedish? He speaks several languages and doesn't even recognise this tongue. The discussions also slow them down, as do the intricate questions about style and period and background. He doesn't even get space to spare a thought for the fun he has prepared for today!

Between _Rembrandt_ and _Turner_ and _Matisse_ he can't turn his mind to the German. It's frustrating.

The hour long tour (that, naturally, turns into an _hour and a half_ long tour) wears his morning brightness down so that he's not so much skipping around as walking with a tiny bit of bounce to his step.

Somehow, his lunch break comes and goes and he is finally free.

Free to waltz his way through the high ceilinged, 19th century museum to the statue room, where a certain blond is trying very hard not to look at him as he dances through the doors.

He wastes no time, and sashays straight over with a large grin all over his face. (He's a happy soul so he's usually grinning anyway.)

"Hello, Mr Guard!" He says directly into the German's personal space.

"It's you again." He grimaces in frustration. "I do have a name you know."

"Oh yes, please tell! I'm sure it's something nice and German, right?"

The guard huffs in a sort of equivalent of an eye roll. "I suppose, although irrelevant to anything. It's Ludwig. Look, are you going to just stand there like yesterday?"

Feli just beams at him, and skips straight over that last part. "Ludwig is a lovely name! Now I can stop calling you 'The Guard' in my head!"

Although the returning stare is steady, he can see a muscle near Ludwig's eye twitch. That must be something his face does a lot, since this is the second time he's witnessing it. He wonders idly if the blond is even conscious of the twitching…

"I…I am on my shift. I am supposed to be watching the artwork, not conversing with…with…"

"Italians? Co-workers?"

He looks surprised. "You're Italian? And you mean to say you actually work here?"

Feli frowns at him and replies: "Well, of course! Can't you tell I'm Italian? Why would it surprise you that I work here anyway, I'm an art historian, and it's a very important job."

…Is that? The guard's - no, _Ludwig's_ - face twitches minutely, almost like he thought something was amusing and his brain tried to tell his face to smile but it refused the order. Feli knows that he's already chipping away that armour and a smile can't be too far away.

Ludwig appraises him: "I'm sure it is an important job, for you to roam around for several hours most of your day doing practically nothing except wander past the Main Chamber."

"How would you know that? Unless you've been watching me! You've noticed me haven't you?!" He's ecstatic at the thought, and practically jumps up and down in front of the German while shoving his broad grin into the blond's airspace.

"W-what? No! No, not at all, it's just…just…" He colours that same beautiful shade he turned yesterday. He is completely gorgeous all flustered like this.

So Feli just smiles at him sweetly and soaks in his floundering. It's a perfect moment. Second only to that time he slept for 20 whole hours and woke up to a three course meal. (Or that time he pretended to be a cat in bed, not that he ever talks about that.)

"I think you have noticed me _Mr Guard_, just like I've noticed you. You know, you should try being happier, it's better for your skin!" With those words of wisdom, he beams at the German and wanders away, content that the world is a fun and exciting place containing beautifully flustered Germans…

**Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are love, more to come very soon. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Two in two days, and another almost done! Here's a longer chapter. Beta'd by the lovely Issy. **

The special Sunday 2 o'clock tour (for those lazy weekenders who can't get up in time for an 11 o'clock equivalent) is made up of a larger number of American tourists. They don't want to see room after after room of '_all the same kind of thing_' as he overhears one of them say, while gazing straight through Van Goph's _Starry Night. _

Normally he would reserve the statue room and it's adjoining brothers as a sort of 'the tour's over now but head right this way for some statue appreciation'. But today, he think's it will probably be more interesting for this _particular_ audience if he takes them through there now.

He makes a grand entrance, like he does with every room during these tours. He's the _leader_ and he's in his element, so, why not put on some show? The tourists seem to like it anyway and they leave him more tips.

(He has done experiments in the past actually, when he had first started out. At first he'd overloaded his group with too much information - and the tips had been pathetic. But then he tried adding smaller, juicier facts about the artists and the cultural connotations of the different works. He gets the most tips when he flirts a little with the ladies - regardless of age. The men, sadly, tend to be less receptive to this technique.)

He gestures broadly at the ornate room, drawing the group's attention to the gothic ceiling design and marble flooring. At least he tries to. He quickly realises that they're instantly distracted by the muscled statues, for which he doesn't blame them - they are meant to be the focus of the room.

Ludwig's gaze is always there, on him, at the edge of his vision. The group takes up most of his attention though.

"Were all these artists gay or something? I mean, it's pretty weird to spent all this time looking at naked, male models in order to carve these and stuff right?" One of them asks.

He feels the smile slip off his face, and hastily plasters a new, less enthusiastic one back on. _Americans._

"That's an interesting question, madam. But most of the artists who created these masterpieces were not gay. Our issues with nudity are actually a modern creation. If we go back a few centuries we find that most of Europe had no issue with it. I'm unsure if you have heard that the ancient Greeks used to compete in sports completely naked?" He waggles his eyebrows a little, earning a few chuckles. Hopefully they won't notice that this tour seems a little strained, but well, this particular tour guide isn't going to be all that cheerful dealing with slightly homophobic questions.

"I think people should revive that Greek tradition. Maybe more people would play sports if they could watch fit guys run around naked…" says a loud woman to her friend. She probably hadn't meant for that to be overheard, but her voice carries very clearly. Feli thinks that she's the sort of person who doesn't quite understand what is meant by the term 'whisper'.

A lanky, dishevelled young man in glasses almost trips over his own feet as Feli leads them on to talk about a copy of Rodin's '_The Gates of Hell'_. He steadies him, and the man apologises. Feli thinks he detects a softer, Canadian accent, but doesn't get to ask because one of the louder American men rushes over to sling his arm supportively around the man's shoulders. (Feli's betting he's a little possessive, and embarrassed to not have been the one to steady the man. Judging by the Canadian's blush, there is no objection to such displays of affection or possessiveness. It's very cute, actually.)

Feli smiles quietly, and starts telling the tourists about the statue.

"This is a personal favourite of mine, _The Gates of Hell_ by Rodin. He worked on this on and off for 37 years! Can you imagine that dedication, ladies and gentlemen? It was meant to be the design for the entrance to the Decorative Arts Museum which, sadly, was never built. But if it had, think of entering through two great doors that looked just like these, only about three times larger! It's inspired by Dante's _Inferno_, and incorporates over fifteen figures that Rodin later turned into stand alone sculptures. On the top here we see _The Three Shades_ and in the centre there I'm sure you recognise _The Thinker_ and down here you have _The Kiss_, several of which we have copies of over there..." As he continues, he reminds himself to be wary of the seven second attention span rule. Several of these people are nodding off as he thinks this. These people just don't know how to appreciate the _skill_ before them.

"And that's about it, ladies and gentlemen! For now, have a look around, and I'll be right here to answer any questions you may have, then we'll move on!" He's more relieved than they are as they disperse into the large room. His eye is drawn to the cute Canadian and his American as they wander off. They really are very cute. Which reminds him...

Ludwig is still staring at him. So he stares back. And grins a large smile because finally. To his surprise, the guard gets up from his chair and starts to head over towards him. His intestines dance out a little samba. (He can't believe his uncle had told him he would make an awful drummer, were he to attempt it. Clearly he has got a beat within him.)

The guard approaches. He walks stiffly - which doesn't surprise Feli in the slightest. But he walks past him and stops so he's about a metre next to him, and acts like he's completely absorbed by the piece before them: _Lacoon and his sons_. Actually, he says nothing for a good few minutes, which does nothing for the samba in his intestines but does a lot for the newly formed tango in his left kidney.

The silence leaves him wondering if Ludwig is legitimately absorbed in the statue before him. (Which he has to admit, makes the man even more appealing to him.) So he does what he's programmed himself to do.

"This piece was extremely controversial when it was first excavated in 1506. The art community and their rich patrons were unused to seeing such agony written in stone - that is, any agony other than Christ's suffering - but that was a justified sort of agony. Michelangelo was actually greatly inspired by this work; he went on to sculpt his two 'slaves'. Some claim he was secretly the creator of this actual piece, but why on earth would he have created such a masterpiece only to bury it so that people could dig it up?

'It's incredible though…look at how the twisting of their bodies looks like you can see them moving, isn't that wonderful? And what a time the Renaissance was for an artist. Michelangelo himself was considered the best there was along with Da Vinci. Oh, to be an Italian artist in those days…He changed the whole of Western Art forever, and was an architect, sculptor, engineer and painter. He was smart too. I think he said once that 'A man paints with his brains and not his hands' or something along those lines…"

He sighs in appreciation, and then blushes a little because he realised he's probably revealed a little too much of his art nerd to the German.

To his surprise, the guard actually looks a little impressed (though it's a little hard to tell, because all his emotions are constricted by the permanent mask the frown lines create on his face.)

Very quietly, Ludwig begins to speak.

"You know, for all the hours I've spent in this room, I don't know a single thing about the objects within it." He turns to look at the art historian, with what could just possibly be considered a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Oh, Ludwig! I'm going to tell you _everything_. Come on! Where should we start?" He grabbed the german by the cuff and would have run off to the next statue but for the realisation that there are still several _Americans_ milling about like lost children (and for all their art appreciation skills, he does wonder if they did actually take a wrong turn to this museum.)

So he pauses with the German's sleeve still in his grasp like he's unsure whether to step forwards or backwards.

"Hey, it's alright, um, Feliciano? - It was Feliciano, right? - You can come back later." Ludwig shakes off his grasp gently.

"You mean you'll wait for me?"

"Yes, I will. My shift ends at six anyway."

"Yay! Oh, thank you Ludwig! You just made my day far more fun, I'll see you later then, bye!" And he rushes off to collect the dawdle of tourists littered between the marble figures with a new enthusiasm. The grin on his face is now completely authentic.

**So yes, art history is one of my hobbies and I go to a lot of museums. The art nerdiness will not end with this chapter, so be warned. Thank you for reading! Reviews are love...**


	5. Chapter 5

**I can't stop, here's another. Beta'd by Issy.**

The Americans disperse after only about 10 more minutes, and after going through the various bits and pieces following a tour - talking to his boss a little, having an all-important snack etc. - it's 4 o'clock and he realises he has 2 whole, glorious hours in which he can do two of his most favourite things: talk, or more specifically, talk about art, and interact with _the guard_, which despite being a very recent hobby, is already his favourite. He lives to see that gorgeous blush again.

Ludwig is already standing by the doorway as he approaches. The look he receives could so _almost_ be a smile, if you looked past that frown-mask (At this rate, he'll be achieving his objective early!).

"Guten Tag, Feliciano."

"Buongiorno, Ludwig! I love that you're German. I'm gonna get you to speak all nice and German to me at some point, hmm? I think that would be great. Oh, I have a good idea! I could talk to you in Italian too! This would be very cool, but neither of us would be able to understand each other and that would be a shame. Oh, I'm so sorry, we ought to get started, where do you wanna start? It's a large room." He looks at Ludwig expectantly to find that the German has resumed his (rather familiar) bewildered expression. He looks so cute like this - like he's never quite expecting so much _sound_ to come out of Feli's mouth.

Realising that he should probably answer Feli's question, the German appears to stumble internally for a second for words.

"Um, how about we start with that one. Uh, the one with the cloth draped over it?" He points to the nearest statue. It just so happens that this is the only figure in the entire room that is fully clothed. The figure is of a woman in prayer, with a veil draped over her face: Monti's _The Veiled Vestal._

"Oh come on, Ludwig! You only picked that one because it's wearing clothes!" The slight blush he receives in return is all the answer he needs. "Come on then, we have to start somewhere."

He leads the German over to the kneeling virgin. "I believe this one was made in about 1830. Let me check…" He peers briefly at the plaque. "Yes, I was close, 1847, by Raffaelle Monti. At the time these vestals were a popular subject matter, and - oh, sorry! I forgot to mention that a vestal was a special priestess they had in Roman times. They were all virgins, and their job was to keep the eternal flame of the gods alight. Anyway, what was I saying?"

"That they were a popular subject matter at the time."

"Oh yes! That was certainly true, because Pompeii had been excavated in the 18th century and many were artists inspired by the temple of Vestals that they found there. And when I say inspired I mean that many men fancied the idea of a temple full of beautiful virgin priestesses…" He trails off with meaning.

Ludwig gives a sort of hiccup-y cough sound. _Right there_ is Feli's favourite shade of red, spread all over his face and neck. But this time the German seems to recover faster. (Maybe his recovery time improves with practise. How awful it would be if such a gorgeous sight would become less common over time.)

"Regardless of the intention, I think this is a beautiful statue. At least it's _decent_."

"Are you telling me, Ludwig, that you can't handle nudity?"

"N-no, I'm just saying that it seems a little, ah, _inappropriate_. That's all."

This makes Feli huff a little. "The human body is, of itself, a work of art. It's so complex - a million million different systems all crammed elegantly into one space. And we can move with such fluidity, such beauty. Have you ever seen a proper ballet performance? On a different note, probably the only art form that those Russians are better than us at. But why hide all of that elegance? Bare skin is not something to be _ashamed_ of."

His outburst gives the German a thoughtful expression.

"I just, I guess it's always been, well, weird. For me. I've never quite been comfortable with public nudity. I mean, um, in _private_, thats fine." Ludwig is such a beautiful shade of pink. Feli feels oddly proud of him for managing to complete that sentence at all.

"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with getting nice and naked every now and then." He feels like he's watching his own personal show right before him. The noises that Ludwig is trying to suppress are so, so wonderful. "Besides Ludwig, we're all humans, nothing to be ashamed of. _And_ on top of all that I don't think we should have to hide our eyes from a beautiful piece of artwork, clothed or not." Feli sighs in appreciation while looking around the room.

"...It's hard to believe some of these figures are actually just sculpted rock."

"Yes, yes, exactly Ludwig! That's the spirit. We'll make an art appreciator of you yet, come on! There's so much more you have to know!"

So the art historian spends two lovely hours dragging a stiff German guard around most of the works in the room. At first the blond was very 'why are you touching me, please remove your hands from my person' but then resigned himself to 'he's Italian' towards the end. Which suits Feli just fine. He feels like a sculptor himself, working away at the hard surface of the guard's composure a little each day. He's made a great deal of progress on this particular day, but even so he worries about his deadline. Maybe he ought to gain himself more hours _outside_ of their brief three-days-a-week interactions…

But for now he focuses on pulling out all those juicy, delicious nuggets of information on _Donatello_ and _Michelangelo_ and _Rodin._

"I definitely recognise this one." says Ludwig, gazing at _the Thinker._

"Ah yes, probably the most famous work in the room. This is by Rodin, who did those others over there, " He gestures, and Ludwig nods, recognising the statues which they had already covered. "This was originally a figure on _the Gates of Hell_, and is often used to reference Philosophy. Some say he is meant to represent Dante, pondering his great poem, but I think Dante kept mentioning that he was clothed in the poem or something so some people say that _the Thinker_ can't be Dante. To be honest, I'm never really sure why some artworks become more famous than others. I mean, _The Gates of Hell_ is far more impressive than this, but if you ask a stranger about Rodin they will always mention _The Thinker_…"

The guard's face is set in concentration as he absorbs more of Feli's words. The Italian has never had a more receptive or interested student.

"I think it's because you can almost _feel_ him thinking; he is lost in thought. You forget that he's a statue because you can imagine that he's so absorbed in his thinking that he forgot to move. I like this Rodin person. He was certainly very skilled at creating almost-life out of a hard material."

The blond has also proved to be a natural art historian. Feli can't believe he hadn't thought to talk to him sooner. He's _perfect. _

"He's one of my favourites too."

They both just wander and absorb the remaining few statues. The Italian wishes he could sculpt like these greats, but sadly he's never had the money. He'll stick to his paintings. The German looks equally lost in thought, but Feli doubts he's thinking along the same lines. He wonders what the German does outside these walls. What he does on the four other days of the week. Where he's been. Where he wants to go.

"Feliciano, thank you for my tour. It has been incredibly informative."

"You're welcome Ludwig. It has been my pleasure. Oh no! It's six already?"

He can almost taste the smile on the German's face. It's so _close_ to a smile anyway.

"Yes, it is six now. So my shifts over, but I…um, I mean. In all my time here, I've never had a look at the rest of this place, if you, um…" Feli practically bursts out of skin.

"Ludwig, I'll show you! We truly are just getting started, there is _so much to see_, there's the Turners! Oh and the small contemporary art exhibition we've just put up in the left wing, and the portrait gallery with the newer exhibition on war heroes. How have you _never_ been? The best part about working here is the free exhibitions! You have no idea how much money I used to spend on the _tickets alone_ and now look at me, walking free every museum I pass. This is the life, huh? Come _on_ Ludwig, let's go!" He rambles, taking the overwhelmed guard by the hand and leading him away.

The German tries to make several feeble protests about signing out and changing out of uniform but the iIalian just waves him off. Their boss won't care in the slightest and won't Ludwig just _loosen up_, he's not even working any more.

Feli realises that he could potentially have the whole evening with his German all to himself, in his favourite museum.

**Thank you for reading! We start to get into some real plot in a bit...**

**Reviews are love :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay this time, I was away art-ing for a bit. But I'm back now! Which means more chapters. Beta'd by the lovely Issy.**

It's Monday, his only day off, and of course the only subject filling his artistic mind is a certain German guard.

Sunday had contained a grand total of 5 hours with said guard. _5 hours._ And there's a small voice in the back of his mind that wants more time than that. Which he's sure is just because he didn't get to finish showing Ludwig around the museum. He couldn't help going slowly because Ludwig kept stopping them to ask more questions, even about the pieces that most people would skip over. The result had been that he they hadn't even entered the two West Rooms which were they were supposed to go to last, but didn't have time for.

Suddenly, the long wait until the next time he gets to educate his guard - next Thursday - seems miles and miles away. The German had asked for his email because Feli hadn't quite finished describing Da Vinci's complex life and skill set and Ludwig had been keen to hear the end. He now has the German's email.

The italian contemplates an offer to see the Modern Art Museum so he can further explain the concept of minimalism to the blond and he knows there's an exhibition at the moment. Hadn't he mentioned the free passes they get to all museums as National Museum employees? He's fairly sure he did at some point, although he's not 100% because the German has lovely bone structure which proves very distracting and has an adverse affect on his memory capacity.

Would seeing the guard today be against the rules he's set himself? Thinking logically, he had set a deadline of two weeks and by seeing the german more - outside work - he would have more time to work towards his goal. Technically, he never set any rule about a work-only arrangement.

For Ludwig's benefit and education, Feli decides it really would be best to show him that exhibition. He simply can't explain minimalism effectively without examples to demonstrate the concept.

Pulling out his phone, he writes a quick email mentioning the exhibition and later that day, if that's possible in the slightest? Because he gets that Ludwig probably has another job or plans so he understands if he's not free and it's all very last minute.

Otherwise, this Monday is going to be one of those long, idle, _sigh_ sort of days. He won't be able to paint - his head's too…clogged up with thoughts of a flushing, blond haired man. A probably-very-muscular-under-that-uniform man. On second thoughts he has many ideas for new paintings, but he'd prefer to draw from a real life model…

He gets up and moves aside a couple of paint tins with his foot, cursing when one falls over and a small trickle of crusted over, sticky white paint pools onto the carpet before he can stop it. To be honest, the carpet is more paint than actual carpet anyway, so he's not entirely sure what would be the point in cleaning up the mess. Regardless, he finds a cloth and swipes away the spill. (You'd think he'd know how to effectively remove paint stains by now. He doesn't. If asked, he claims he thinks paint stains make the apartment - and himself - 'more artsy'.)

He's halfway to the sink when his phone beeps happily at him from where its buried, along with paintbrushes and palette knives, between the sofa cushions. Rushing over, he pulls it out to see that yes, he has a new email and yes, it's from a certain blond.

In his head, he sees a wonderful shade of red spread across pale cheeks while he's checking the email.

So…his guard can come. And will meet him there at five. But he has work after, so he will have to leave later.

Five it is.

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are love...**


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow 5:00 turns out to be further away than Feli expected. He's already at the Modern Art Museum even though it's only 4:00 pm (why does time seem to take _forever_ sometimes?) and he's unsure what exactly he should do with himself.

He ends up sitting down on one of the lovely wrought iron benches dotted around the museum, which is located in a small park. Pulling his small moleskine sketchbook out of his jacket pocket, he looks up and considers the space around him. What to draw? He could sketch one of the lovely, intricate twisty-trees that you only find around this museum. (They're not native, but this is an art museum and artists tend to like pretty things as a general rule.) He could sketch some of the randomers milling about.

There's also the pigeons. But he isn't exactly fond of the scavenging birds after being crapped on that one time when he was wearing his _only_ suit jacket back when he was seeing that Frenchman. What a douche. On the other hand there had been perks to that relationship; namely, suit jackets. Seeing how he came out of the relationship with a grand total of zero suit jackets, he's not sure what he did actually gain from it.

But back to the problem of what to draw. He has a long tedious hour to fill. The thought sparks him to check his watch, only to find that is 4:06 pm and he's managed to while away a grand total of three minutes since he last checked his watch. He sighs.

Without meaning to, he ends up randomly dragging his pen back and forth across the paper while his thoughts drift. It's a little habit of his which he has happily named 'idle hand drifting' although he was sad to find it didn't count as a skill he could put on his CV.

It's almost like meditation. The strokes of his pencil don't have to mean anything, and besides that they don't even look suitably artistic enough for him to claim they're just abstract. They don't even look good. But it's easier to just _sit_ when his hands are doing something. He was always a fidgeter.

And maybe he falls asleep, or really does fall into a trance state, because after no time at all he realises he is looking at the very same German who has occupied his thoughts all day.

Feli startles upright, hastily shoving the moleskine into his jacket pocket and standing up, almost knocking the guard over in his abruptness.

"My god, you startled me!" says Ludwig.

The Italian gives a small laugh and runs a hand through his hair nervously. But he tells himself it's not nerves, just excitement, and the effects of being startled out of sleep.

"Well…you startled me first!" He replies lamely. _Wow_, does he lack his usual style and confidence when he's caught off guard. Or when he's half asleep. Not that the guard has seen him sleeping…yet.

Ludwig just looks amused, and takes in Feli's scruffy-yet-indie attire. What can he say, he's an artistic soul and he doesn't have to wear uniform today.

"What were you drawing?"

"Oh I don't know just random things…I call it 'idle hand drifting' and it's one of my favourite hobbies but they wouldn't let me say that officially because I invented it. Which seems unfair because it's my best skill. But again, that might be because I am the only one that practises it."

This time the German doesn't look as taken back by his small outburst. Instead he just seems to accept them with a small frown of concentration as he tries to keep up with the fast speed of talking. The Italian thinks he likes this look just as much.

They amble the short distance to the entrance to the Modern Art Museum, and somehow, it's only just now that Feli becomes aware of the exhibitions taking place. He had known about the interesting looking Post minimalist exhibition featuring several installation art pieces, but he hadn't known about the other exhibition.

See, it's because of these surprising situations that he ought to read those 'Museums and the Arts' magazines that he gets. Maybe then he would have known about this new exhibition in advance.

Essentially, he knows that this museum is prone to the odd _risqué_ show, but he simply didn't see the 'portrayal of the nude figure in ancient art' exhibition coming. They won't be able to avoid walking through it because it's in the central room, amongst the installation pieces. So he's going to have to take his german through a room full of nude figures again. He wonders if some greater being orchestrated this.

To be honest, he's an Italian, and he has no problems with nudity. He's just very, very interested to watch this German's reaction. Judging by his reaction to the naked statues in the statue room, this is going to be another brilliant experience. And judging by the guard's limited art knowledge, he won't have realised what he's in for until they're in that room.

As he thinks this, he and his German exchange brief small talk about their day and get tickets (for free, with their museum ID - ah, the joy.) Something about Ludwig sleeping and going to the gym, 'the usual' he claims. Looking at the guard's fitness level, Feli would judge that yes, he must go to the gym often.

The blond is immediately curious about the strange installation artworks they approach in the first room.

"Feliciano -"

"Most people just call me Feli. It's easier." He interrupts.

"Oh, ok then. Feli, what exactly is this? I mean, it just looks like bits of string all over the place."

The Italian laughs brightly for a little at the look of confusion on the German's face. Clearly, he hasn't had much experience with installation art. He looks so adorable like this. He wonders how red the guard would turn if he told him this.

"That's what most people say when they first see art like this! It's because you're looking at it all _wrong_. Don't look at it like you normally would in _our_ museum. This isn't about the skill or elegance or any of that. This is, well, it's. Um. Ok this is hard to explain, I don't normally do modern stuff. How should I say this…" Feli struggles for a moment. And watches the confused German.

Suddenly the Italian rushes around the large structure - which looks something like a large abstract form made up of string in different shades of red strung from the ceiling.

Through the gaps, the blond peers at him; his expression a question.

"Ok so, don't try looking at the piece like a piece of art. Look at it like shapes. See me?" He smiles broadly through the piece at Ludwig. Who just sort of looks at him.

Feli moves around the piece.

"Now see me. See the shapes the string creates. The form and the different forms that it can create if you move around it to a different angle." At which point the Italian has circled the piece and takes the German's sleeve to pull him around it with him.

"See how it's never the same? There's always something different to look at. And what is art, if not something interesting that makes you look again, and again…"

The German contemplates the structure for a while.

"I suppose I sort of see what you mean. It's certainly very different from most art, but you're right it is rather interesting visually. I think I may disagree with you about what art is though."

"Oh yes? What do you think art is, Mr Guard?" The name gets him a little grumpy frown (again: adorable.)

"I think it's…expression? Beauty? A form of skill or entertainment maybe?"

"For a beginner you really are very insightful, and much sharper than most. Come on, I can't wait to see what you'll make of the next room. Sadly, we will not find as many naked _statues_ in here…"

Once again, the guard regards him curiously, but his demeanour doesn't change and he says nothing. They walk in comfortable silence through to the next room, or rather, the _naked paintings_ room. Feli can feel his excitement bubbling. Which may say something about him.

"And in this room we have a rare collection of ancient artworks…"

He sees the German startle in surprise as they enter the room. He seems to take a moment to swallow - his eyes that little bit too wide - as he surveys the room. Feli can see the second the surprise switches to intent curiosity and interest. He really has made an art historian out of the man, and in such a short time too. None of this stops the violent deep blush across the guard's cheeks. It's getting so easy to crack that rigid armour he just knows he could get a smile any second.

As he watches Ludwig flounder for a few moments, he considers what would happen when he does get a smile. Will that be it? Will his interest in the guard wane like it does with so many men? The idea shouldn't scare him as much as it does.

The reason for the german's surprise is this: essentially the room is full of breasts and penises. For those unfamiliar with ancient artwork, they had a fondness for both nudity and enlarged sexual organs - often they were seen as fertility charms for newlyweds, or were painted for private collectors or brothels.

"Ludwig, did you know they have a museum room just like this in Pompeii, devoted to the hundreds of stone penises they found when they excavated the Roman city?"

"Um…N-no I didn't…" The German seems to recover as he begins again. He really is such a beautiful shade. "Why are there so many _naked people_?!" He hisses.

The Italian just raises his shoulders with a grin on his face. He gestures broadly with his hands. "Art, my friend."

And they move on to the rest of the exhibition.

**Thanks for reading! Beta'd by the lovely Issy. Much more to come, please follow/review, it means a lot :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay, I'm not as inspired recently for some reason. :/**

It happens. It's only been eight days since he started his little mission, and it happens. He's a little surprised because well, he'd assumed it would be more difficult to crack his grumpy guard's armour.

Turns out some people just surprise you.

If he rewinds, it goes something like this:

Towards the end of their little wander through the Modern Art Museum, Ludwig seems rather used to following Feli around. To be honest, Feli enjoys all the attention he is receiving far too much. Not only is the guard a rather beautiful choice of companion, but his questions are astute and well thought out.

By the time they reach the exit, Ludwig knows a lot more about installation art. He also knows a lot more about Italian cuisine, cat breeds, and collagraphing techniques.

There's a warmth in the evening air as they walk side by side through the small park. Feli's still talking a mile a minute about their latest topic of conversation - the different gradients of the sky throughout the day.

It's a favourite of his - one of those little things that he always seems to notice but never really talks about to other people. By this point, most of his dates are usually weirded out by the eccentricities of his conversation, but Ludwig honestly seems interested.

Ludwig says something about work soon. How could he have forgotten? The guard had mentioned that he would have to leave after their little visit.

"Oh Ludwig, I'd completely forgotten! That is sad, I was enjoying talking with you! I know it's a long shot but…well, do you have to go?" He asks. (Well, more like pleads. He even pulls his favourite 'I'm too cute to abandon' expression.)

"I can't I'm afraid. And I… I've been enjoying myself too."

Feliciano sighs a little and looks away, watching the way the warm light shifts over the surrounding trees. His insides flutter a little knowing that the German really does enjoy his company. In a moment they'll reach the road and the Ludwig will have to go.

"Feli, you could come. If you wanted to I mean. My boss won't mind at all and my shift's only two hours today because a coworker is sick. I mean…if you don't mind waiting? After we could go and um, get a drink or something?" He says, all flustered and gorgeous. The guard can't quite make eye contact with him.

On another note…did he just offer him a drink?

"That would be amazing! Oh my, if we are to go, I ought to know where you work. Aside from the museum. I can't believe I forgot to ask!."

"Oh um yeah, I forgot to tell you. Ugh, I work as a bodyguard for a club."

Feli can picture his grumpy guard standing menacingly outside a club. He can clearly imagine several underage teenagers being scared away by the German. And then he thinks about the German breaking apart fights with ease. At least, he assumes it would be easy for the guy, judging by those lovely, well defined muscles. Which leads to a whole new train of thought...

The guard looks at him curiously while he runs through his little thought processes.

"I was just thinking that you're even tougher than I assumed! But it sort of doesn't surprise me about the whole bodyguard thing I mean, you have the poker face and physique…" As he trails off he runs his gaze briefly over the German. Oh, he's positively _stunning,_ this flustered. He wonders what would reaction he would get if let his gaze linger for longer, or maybe if he had the chance to run his hands over the german….how flustered would he get then? Or would he just respond by shoving at Feli roughly and running his own hands along the italian's body...

The German doesn't manage to say anything further as he leads Feli through the darkening streets.

The street lamps become steadily brighter and bathe his companion in a warm orange glow. The guard's gaze looks so soft when it's painted in such sleepy colours. Is he imagining it, or is that stern face less stern than it used to be? It could just be the lighting - it makes everything a lovely warm hue.

As they approach the nightclub area of town not much later, the buildings they pass become increasingly lively - they start to feel the throbbings of music and people's enjoyment. Before they reach the central hub of the night life in their city, they turn off a main road to a slightly more remote strip of clubs.

It's with great shock that Feli recognises the club they are approaching. He happens to be quite familiar with it.

The bar they are nearing is their city's best and most well known gay bar: "The Cockpit".

He stops walking and as a result so does Ludwig. He looks at him with a brow raised.

"Well, you didn't ask what kind of club, did you?" says the rather abashed German.

"I might have done if I'd thought you would work at this particular club out of all the clubs out there." Feli looks away. He's not sure he wants the German to see this side of him, they've only been talking for 8 days!

"Oh, I didn't realise you would, um, have any problems with it I assumed…look you can go if you want, I mean, it was a lot to ask you to wait for me for two whole hours."

"No, Ludwig, that wasn't what I meant at all! It's just, I'm familiar with this club. I used to come here a lot. I might recognise someone." Which is technically true.

The German turns to him, startled. They've stopped walking in the middle of the pavement.

"Oh, um, wow." He says lamely. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he continues: "Well, I guess we should just go up and see what happens then. If you still want to wait, that is."

"Don't be _silly. _I'll have you know that I am an _art historian _and I obviously I am extremely tough. I can handle anything, so don't you worry."

Ludwig huffs out a soft, amused sort of snort.

"I'm sure you can, Feli. I'll just go and change round the back, but then I basically just guard the entrance for two hours. Tell the bartender you're with me and he should give you one or two free drinks while you wait."

"Ok, wow, thank you, Ludwig!"

"I'll be right there ok? If anything happens, just come and find me, and I'll-"

"Hey! I can handle myself! Besides you just offered me _free drinks_ so I'll be perfectly happy inside."

"Ok, ok, I was just saying. I'm gonna go. See you in a bit!" Before he can depart Feli rests his arm along the guard's shoulders in a half-hug sort of farewell gesture. His close proximity makes the guard blush yet _again_ and he revels in the feeling of power.

The German disappears round the back, leaving Feli to hover before the entrance, dreading what - or rather who - he may encounter inside. It's been a few years since he's been here, but he doubts much has changed.

He contemplates dawdling by the entrance, but the bodyguard on duty - who looks about to leave because Ludwig's about to replace him - glares at him in a way that says _get inside already_. He also realises it will probably look quite pathetic if Ludwig returns to find him _still here. _So he thinks about the free drinks, and a certain German, and just goes for it.

**Reviews are love! Also n.b 'The Cockpit' was a name from the internet. I disappointed myself by not coming up with any good gay club names myself. May be a little while til next chapter? I dont really know, these things just sort of happen.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Exciting chapter...but my lips are sealed, I told you nothing.**

It looks exactly the way it always has, and he gives an internal sigh of relief when he doesn't immediately recognise anyone. Looking around briefly, he only spots one or two men that he knows. But then he looks up at the very small little stage that's surrounded by a crowd of men grinding to the music and through the strobe lights he sees that it is Sheila on stage. He feels his face pale, and he rushes to hide himself from view in a small hub of dancers.

Oh god, what is he doing here. He just knows that Ludwig is going to find out. Speaking of whom, he sticks his head out of his hiding place - and considering his hiding place is a group of grinding males this proves an interesting endeavour - and looks back at the doorway.

Ludwig is standing there. His back is turned but Feli recognises his form, even from behind.

And speaking of behind…how had he never noticed what a gorgeous ass the guard has? How tight are those black jeans? He doubts he could even slip a piece of paper inside - they're that tight. And that extremely close-fitting shirt doesn't really hide anything. The german's ample muscles are perfectly framed by the outfit, and he can't tear his eyes away from him. He wonders idly how visible his nipples must be from the front.

And then the dancers around him move, and he's left a little too out in the open on the dance floor. So he turns to the bar and grabs himself a seat next to a pair enthusiastically making out. He feels too hot in the throbbing club as he tells the bartender he's with Ludwig. He doesn't miss the way the man's eyebrows rise in surprise. What is that about?

After getting his favourite starting drink: a toffee apple cider (He used to drink only these for several months until someone introduced him to the art of cocktails and he decided to spice up his palate) he looks around the familiar room, wondering idly how he's going to pass two hours without either being detected by someone he knows or just getting up and throwing himself at the lovely bodyguard. He turns around and orders himself a shot of vodka.

He doesn't remember too much after that.

When he thinks about it, he can blame Ludwig for offering the free booze.

He comes back to himself supported heavily by Ludwig's _strong and well muscled _arms. They're just outside the bar, and the German is looking at him with concern.

"Feli, are you alright? You drank too much." He says by way of explanation.

_Ah. _Thinks Feli, _so that's where the last few hours went. Woops._

He hadn't meant to drink that much, but he does vaguely remember bumping into too many familiar faces and then a hand on his ass, and somewhere in all that Ludwig and Sheila, at least he thinks so?

"How am I… even conscious right now?" He manages to get out, whilst taking the opportunity to clutch the German's lovely, muscled arms. (He freaks out a little because wow, his chest is _so firm._)

"_So_ firm…"

"What was that?" After the Italian says nothing, Ludwig just continues (thankfully). "You puked, Feli, so I think you'll be fine now. And you were almost unconscious for a second there but my boss called you a cab and my shift ended. I think he knew you or something…"

Feli grabs on to the German tighter, as if his clutch can prevent that very train of thought.

"Just, try not to pass out ok? Have some more water." Ludwig says, supporting him while passing him a plastic water bottle that he gulps down greedily.

The Italian groans after his brain finally catches up with him. He's made such a mess of things already.

"Oh no…I wasn't meant to fuck up! What did I do?" He squints his eyes suspiciously. "I didn't pole dance again did I?"

He isn't sure, because he's not in his right state of mind, but he thinks the German's eyes pop out of his head a little bit. It's absolutely hysterical, so naturally he bursts into laughter and can't stop.

Ludwig looks at him with more concern, and he's vaguely aware of being manhandled gently into a taxi which must have arrived at some point.

He feels very nice actually. This has to be the best post-drinking experience he's ever had. He's got a nice, strong body to cling on to in the taxi, and after idly telling the German his address, he knows that he'll find his way home safely. It's a new feeling for him, and honestly it's completely lovely.

"Why are you always so grumpy, Ludwig?", he can't help but wonder aloud.

He looks up at the German from where he's sprawled across the back seat with his head on Ludwig's lap. The returning look is thoughtful, if not slightly bemused.

"I guess cheerfulness just doesn't come to me very easily." he says. The German rests his arm across Feli's torso to stop him from falling as the taxi gives a sudden jolt. He forgets to remove it for the rest of the drive.

"Oh, don't worry Ludwig, I'm working on that. You'll see…" Ah, he is so tired. There's a nice sleepy feeling, and he knows he won't be too hungover because he threw up. There's also the comfort of having a pillow, and a warm arm-blanket. A warm, _muscled, _arm-blanket. Mmm…

The Italian falls asleep, and completely misses the expression on the German's face as he watches his sleeping charge.

—-

He wakes to an alarm going off.

Groaning complaints, he wraps himself further into his duvet-cocoon. Feli stretches, unfurling from his sleeping sprawl like a caterpillar and hearing various bits a pieces pop menacingly. He relaxes back down with a sort of flop and finally wrenches his eyes open to slam that _stupid _alarm off.

But his warm post-sleep contentment is startled away abruptly when he remembers how he got home. Now he thinks about it, he does remember getting his keys out, but not much else so how did he get into bed…?

Filled with a sudden energy, he jumps out of bed and through to his living space/ studio/ kitchen to find that there is a suspiciously guard-shaped lump occupying the sofa.

_Oh no_, he thinks, _I hope I didn't mess up his plans or anything. _

He contemplates his next move as he watches the sleeping form. A shot of panic takes hold as he considers what a nuisance he's been.

_He's seen my drunk side! I fell asleep on him in a taxi. Oh no, I probably drooled too. What have I done._

Should he wake the guard up? What does one do in this situation! And he has work in - he glances at his watch - 75 minutes! On the one hand, Ludwig might have work too and therefore appreciate being woken, whilst on the other hand Feli would then have to deal with an awkward hour or so of getting ready with the German right _there _and being unsure how to handle the new situation between them. Does Ludwig dislike him now? He probably does. So many _complications._

He will never drink. Ever again. It's always a bad idea. Always. He swears to himself from this day forward, he will never drink. Well, ok, maybe just a little bit because alcohol can be so _lovely _but just never as much as last night.

Ok, new promise to himself: He will never get crazy drunk again. Ever.

And regarding the current situation? He does what any person would do, ignore it until he can't any more. Essentially, he goes through his normal morning routine, adamantly ignoring the occasional shift or murmur coming from the sofa.

It's when he's got his shoes and coat on that he comes to stand in front of the sleeping guard once more. He has to be out of the door in 3 minutes, so even that isn't possibly enough time for any significant amount of awkward, right?

He nudges Ludwig gently. The blond wakes with blearily, with the most adorable confused look on his face.

"Oh, good morning Feli." is the greeting he gets. He can't really help but beam at the German. He isn't angry! Maybe that means he hasn't ruined his chances.

The German continues to blink a little at him as he wakes up, and that's when Feli spots it. A slight lift at the corner of his mouth. It grows a little in size, until he can definitely say that it's real.

Ludwig smiles.

**Beta'd by the lovely Issy, who I miss ;(. The story does not end here! So watch out for more. (( Reviews are love ))**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm sorry for the delay! A nasty thing called IB came along and whisked me away in its sharp, painful fangs, but I escaped! And have returned as promised.**

Ludwig really wakes up when Feli loudly closes the door on his way out. He would be annoyed about that usually, but he knows the Italian didn't mean to wake him up. He's probably unused to other people being in his little flat.

As he gains more consciousness, the cosy flat drips itself into focus. It's a confused shamble of cramped furniture and used paint supplies. The sofa is wedged haphazardly amongst paint pots that litter the floor, so that it is less of a floor and more of a dangerous-stepping-stone-game-of- find-some-actual-carpet. Half finished projects lay strewn about - the beginnings of a clay figure is left abandoned on the dining table, several used paintbrushes have been taped together to form a lampshade for the ceiling light bulb, about thirty old jars line the top of a bookshelf - jars in which candles have been placed and Feli has delicately painted the outside of the glass.

Endless books on _Art in the City _and _Your Guide to Sculpture _and _the Works of Van Gogh _are wedged into the abused bookshelf. It looks about to topple over, like most of the scruffy furniture. The sofa cover has been patched up in several places with mismatching burberry squares of cloth. Upon closer inspection, it is revealed that despite the odd choice of fabric, the stitching is perfect.

He moves into the kitchen. (With great care not to knock anything over). It's very small, and he's not even sure if there _is_ a sink under that pile of dishes. Even so, there's food everywhere. Whilst at his own home he keeps the bare minimum - some bread, milk, cereal, coffee - here he finds cumin, oregano, cinnamon and paprika in rows of elegantly labeled jars. There's about twelve different types of pasta lining one shelf and rows of differently shaped pots and strange looking devices that he _assumes (_hopes) are also for cooking.

He can't remember the last time he found himself in another's home. He feels awkward and too large for the dishevelled little burrow of an apartment, and experience has told him that he should hate the mess and chaos. But at the same time, he doesn't hate it. Which is something. He wonders if Feli is a good cook - he probably is.

Suddenly he's thinking about watching Feli at work in his little kitchen. He's thinking about shared meals with the Italian and discussing the pros and cons of cooking with lots of butter or oil. He's thinking about coming up behind the shorter man while he's at the frying pan and resting his head on his shoulder while whispering '_Dinner smells great today' _into his ear. He's thinking about shared glasses of wine late in the evening and Feli's gorgeous laughter filling the cosy home.

Where did this guy even come from?

Ludwig can't deal with this many sentimental thoughts all of a sudden, where did _those _even come from? He decides he ought to get out of this, this - _someone else's house. _He feels out of place all of a sudden and he doesn't _belong _here. Besides it's Tuesday and he has work this afternoon so he really ought to go home and change and…he'd slept over at Feli's place so his clothes are still rumpled.

Oh _God_, he'd slept over! That was definitely overstepping boundaries right? Feli probably wanted to take this slow, had he gone too far? No, no, it was probably fine. Probably. He grabs his coat and checks his appearance in the mirror next to the door - he's blushing furiously. He curses and wills the blood to _go away _already. He shrugs into his coat, cursing his lack of umbrella and wondering whether or not he brought his hat - almost looking for them both, but of course, this isn't his apartment.

He turns to check over the cramped apartment before he leaves, and his eyes fall upon his makeshift bed - the sofa. He smiled this morning. When Feli woke him up.

When was the last time he _smiled?_ Certainly before…before everything fell apart. Before Feli…he probably hadn't even spoken to anyone in he asks himself - Where did this guy even come from?

He has too many questions and thoughts he's not comfortable with. So he turns to the door, and heads out. Judging by the dark sky outside, it will probably rain. He doesn't have a fucking umbrella.

**Beta'd by my favourite Issy who I love forever for not giving up on me.**

**Thoughts, comments? They will be much appreciated. :)**


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